Not Suffering
Just a little rain up here at the lake yesterday afternoon, but we are living the life of luxury, regardless.
Breakfast on the deck.
But earning it by taking care of that too-long neglected task of tending to the gutters on the backside of the house. Out of sight, out of mind, you know.
After I dug for long enough, I actually found a gutter underneath all that mess.
More family arrived yesterday afternoon and we dined like royalty and stayed up too late playing cards.
It’s another classic summer weekend ‘at the lake.’
Aahhhhh.
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Brick Fix
Okay, it was a paver, not a brick. We are up at the lake for the weekend! It’s the first time I’ve been up here all summer and the first thing I noticed was a gaping hole in the front steps.
After opening windows, adding water to the pond, and then cleaning out the gutter on the backside of the house (don’t ask), I decided that the busted paver deserved immediate attention. The only problem was, I had no idea how the steps were built. I didn’t know if cement was involved and if it would even be possible to remove just one “brick.”
So, I just started slow. Perseverance paid off and the paver eventually started to come loose. Once I had it out, it was time to hunt for a replacement.
Oh, yeah, that might have been a smart thing to figure out before tearing into the top, center step in front of the door.
With Cyndie’s help, we came up with a replacement paver and set about devising a process to install it.
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We are both quite proud of the result.
After that, it was time for a swim. Oh what a divine treat that was.
Topped off with a pizza from our favorite local restaurant, it was a wonderfully satisfying day for us.
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Always Hope
It is a time of speeches for democracy in the US this week and hearing the intelligent oration of our previous (44th) President last night was incredibly refreshing. After enduring years of the undoing of countless protections to our environment, the destruction of our country’s reputation across the globe, disrespecting our allies and coddling our adversaries, and repeatedly trashing our precious freedom of the press, the campaign for an alternative is finally stirring hope for a better future.
I sure hope our youngest eligible voters will show up like never before to exercise their right to have a say in who our lawmakers and policymakers and leaders will be for the next term, all the way down the ballot.
If our chickens could vote, I think the twelve young ones would choose to have the net removed so they could take over the whole coop.
The three adult hens might not be ready to accept the kids yet, though. Tuesday night, I think they thought the kids had locked them out of the house. When I arrived to close the chicken door for the night, to my surprise, the hens came running to meet me.
“What are you guys doing up still?!” I asked in amazement. “You’re supposed to be in bed already!”
Then I noticed their access door was already closed. Poor things couldn’t get in.
It was as if they were running toward me to tell me all about their dilemma.
When Cyndie got home later in the evening, I asked if she knew any reason why the door might have been closed. The realization flashed and she moaned in woe. She had closed it earlier in the day, in case any of the young ones hopped over a barrier while she was pulling out the poop board to clean it, and forgot to slide the door back open.
The young chicks have quickly gained full confidence for climbing to the big roosts and will make big leaps and flap wings to reach places we’d rather they didn’t, like the slanted surface above the nest boxes.
But their confidence and aggressiveness give me hope they will be up to every challenge that lies ahead while maturing into adulthood.
It feels good to experience a little boost in hope. For our chicks, yes, but more importantly, for our country.
It’s been a really long stretch of little to none in the hope department.
This serves to remind me to always hope, regardless of how gloomy the prospects might ever appear.
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Cloudless Sky
Yesterday was one of the great ones when it comes to sunny summer days. The neighboring cattle are definitely being grass-fed and made for excellent subjects as I paused to capture some shots of that cloudless sky.
Apparently, some of the grass looked greener on the other side of that fence.
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Proximity
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I remember when we used to hug
and shake hands
even though I can’t remember
the last time I did either
despite the best hopes
for some version of successfully eating out
it is getting harder
to visualize how restauranting
will ever again work for all participants
in some new form of normal
all from that invisible virus
that kills more people
than morgues have space for
while unknown numbers
present no symptoms at all
and we can’t tell who has it
from who already may have had it
from who will get it next
and masks scare some folks
while angering way too many others
and the earth doesn’t seem to notice
people are pandemic-ing to and fro
as it unleashes new hurricanes
fires, and tornado
and fire-tornados
as if everything was still normal
I remember when we didn’t worry
about shaking hands and giving hugs
but I really struggle trying to remember
what it was like
to be unconcerned about proximity
to everyone else
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Bold Color
Yesterday was a comfortably quiet Sunday. I stole some time to nap in the hammock, but otherwise, my day was consumed by a small number of tasks in the incredible comfort of a gorgeous summer day. I took Delilah with me to trim a rash of willow tree sprouts starting to clutter the main drainage swale running the length of our southern property border.
She is back to her old bouncy self already, long before the shaved wounds have fully closed.
The beef cattle in the adjacent field took an interest in my activity and congregated along the fence. When a couple of them pushed their giant heads between two strands of the barbed wire to munch on the leaves of a tree I had just tossed aside, Delilah asserted herself enough to back them all off.
She appears to have a keen grasp of our property line.
We are back to full walks around the periphery trails, where we came upon one of nature’s brilliant displays of uncharacteristic color.
Looks like this could be where the idea for crunchy Cheetos® originated.
Delilah totally ignored it as she strolled past, but I stopped to give it my full attention. I decided against checking to see what it tasted like, though.
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Successful Relocation
The chicks are in the coop!
Among the changes the chicks are dealing with, a bedding of sand instead of woodchips appeared to be the primary focus of their initial impressions.
It didn’t take them long to push the envelope of their abilities in exploring the new levels available. It was cute to watch them consider a leap multiple times before actually launching from one perch to another.
It got chilly last night and exposed the youngsters to cooler temperatures than they were used to in the brooder. Cyndie ended up lowering the heat lamp a little to ease their adjustment to this new world.
When we went down to close the chicken door, it was sweet to hear the three adult hens soothingly cooing while calmly perched on their side of the roost. They appeared unconcerned about the twelve new coop-mates that suddenly appeared during the day.
The chicks seemed just fine with the situation, as well.
The newbies will spend a week or so confined to quarters to establish the coop space as their current and future home before being granted brief, but expanding outings in the fenced front yard we will be installing today.
All these steps are designed to keep them safe while they are maturing toward a time when they will be merged with the adult hens and granted the full rights of free-ranging the property to the delight of us all.
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One Month
Our little babies are a month old now and outgrowing the space in their brooder. They are adding feathers and sprouting tails, each at their own pace. The poor early developers stood out as unwelcome attention-getters. All the other chicks giggled and poked fun at their odd protuberances, until suddenly they got them, too.
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We are planning today will be the day to transfer them to their half of the recently subdivided coop. I think they will like it.
It’s a bit like they are transitioning from elementary school where they are totally confident to the high school where everything will be new and intimidating. Cyndie’s a former principal so she knows how to create a safe and welcoming space for first-year classes.
These kids will quickly become masters of their new domain. After they reach a size compatible for mingling with the 3 adult hens, it will be the elders who we will be curious about, as they will be outnumbered four-to-one all of a sudden by these unfamiliar new breeds.
Feathery feet! Oh, my!
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Storm Departs
Cyndie shared some scenes from the aftermath of a thunderstorm that bowled over us earlier in the week. There has been a steady stream of them lately, most being of the non-concerning variety, but not without some minor consequences.
There is another tree that has fallen across one of our trails. Honestly, before living here, I had no idea how often trees topple over in a forest. Sometimes, it’s even weather-related, but not always.
The backside of the storm was pretty obvious and the blue sky behind it served as a wonderful exclamation mark of bidding the blustery beast good riddance.
After the sun drooped below the horizon, it provided one last parting gift of illuminating a whisp of a heart-shape in one of the lower clouds.
I’ve heard of silver linings, but this cloud definitely had a pink one.
We’ve been spared the hail that some areas received the other night, and for once, the total precipitation amounts have bounced between a quarter and a half of an inch, instead of overflowing our rain gauge. A blessing that we do not take for granted one bit.
All the aspects of our paradise glow and flourish in the aftermath of each rumbly event of rocky weather. As I recline on our deck or inside the screen door soaking up the glorious calm, there is no place I would rather be.
It’s social distancing on the grandest of scales.
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